


Silence is so perfectly silent

by takktakktakk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takktakktakk/pseuds/takktakktakk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day had been calm. Sun had been up the whole day, no clouds in the sky as blue as his eyes that had looked at Dean one last time and then, just like that, closed forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence is so perfectly silent

Springtime. Flowers starting to blossom, snow melting, the sun staying up in the sky warming the Earth and the souls on it longer and longer every day. All the darkness and coldness retreating, giving way to warmth and light.

 

Birds were singing again. You could see and hear them everywhere; in the parks, downtown, on the side of the roads, in the woods.

 

Everywhere but here.

 

The cemetery was silent. Dead silent. No one to be seen, no one to be heard. No people, living or dead, no birds. Everything was utterly calm, it seemed almost like the time had stopped.

 

Sam had said that they should burn the body, but Dean had refused. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even to himself, but there was still a tiny part of him _hoping._ Hoping that there was still, _still,_ a chance. That there was still _hope._ That this wasn’t final.

 

A part of him wouldn’t give up on hope, but somewhere deep inside he still knew that this… _this was it._ There was no coming back. Sure, they had been to hell and back, deceased and resurrected, countless of times. But this was something that couldn’t just be undone. This was too much. Even for them. Even for Cas.

 

His grace had been running out and none of them had been able to do anything. They had tried, _of course they had tried,_ they had tried to do _everything they could,_ but apparently, sometimes that just wasn’t enough. They’d been trying to find the answer so desperately, only to realize that there was nothing left. Not even time.

 

Cas had died two weeks ago. The day had been calm. Sun had been up the whole day, no clouds in the sky as blue as his eyes that had looked at Dean one last time and then, just like that, closed forever. Cas had fallen asleep and the whole world had gone with him.

No wind, no sound anywhere. Just infinite peace and harmony. Everywhere.

 

Sam had cried. A lot. He had talked about it, he had openly told how he felt like. How he had seen this coming, but in some way believed that they could still find an answer and save Cas. How he couldn’t believe that he was actually gone. How it hurt.

 

Dean had listened. He’d nodded, soundlessly comforted Sammy, been there for him. Let him cry against his shoulder, stroked his back to tell him that it was all going to be okay.

 

But he hadn’t talked. He hadn’t cried. He had been as calm as the day Castiel had left.

 

Dean had carried Cas’ weak body to his own room and put it on his bed with his own arms. Dean had carried Cas’ lifeless body out of his own room and buried him under the ground with his own arms.

 

Sam had tried to make him talk about it too, of course. Of course Sam had to do that. He just had to make sure that Dean was doing at least somewhat okay, that he wasn’t utterly broken. That he still felt _something._ But Dean hadn’t said a thing. Every time he’d just looked Sam deep in the eyes for a few moments and left the room. There was nothing to be said, nothing to be done.

 

Just like there had been nothing to be done to save Cas.

 

Two weeks had passed in thin fog. Sam had taken his time to mourn, to really take the fact that his friend was gone and wasn’t coming back this time. They had lost many of their friends, _way too many,_ but it just hadn’t never really occurred to him that someday _an angel_ would be one of those friends who ended up falling asleep forever. It felt surreal.

 

Most days Dean had just stayed in his room. One would think he’d be used to losing Cas by now, but apparently not. Various bottles of booze had given him great company when he’d sat on his bed, staring at the wall. Sometimes he’d passed out and hours later waken up, only to finish the bottle and uncork a new one.

 

The weather had been horrible after _that_ day. It’d been raining and storming and the wind had been awful, every single day for the past two weeks. But today, out of sudden, it was calm again. No signs of any kinds of storms anywhere. It was like the past fourteen days had been only a dream, a _nightmare,_ and the weather had been just like this the entire time. It was like the day Cas had died on was just going on and on, never ending. The only difference was that Dean’s bed wasn’t now taken over by Cas’ body, but several empty bottles of booze.

 

The weather was actually the thing that had caught Dean’s mind. He was already used to the storm, but now it was sunny and silent. Suddenly the furor of the world was gone.

 

Dean had blinked a few times, and then, very slowly, stood up. He was almost sober; he’d been only staring at the wall for the last few hours, not really paying attention to the half-empty bottle in his hand anymore. He’d glanced at his bed, maybe to count the bottles, maybe to make sure that Cas wasn’t lying there. Then he’d thrown the bottle in his hand on the bed too and ran out of his room. Out of his room, out of the bunker, out of the past few weeks.

 

And now, here he was. Running. His lungs were burning, he felt dizzy, but he didn’t stop until he reached the cemetery.

 

He was completely out of breath and felt like he was going to pass out, but still he managed to find some more energy to stand and even start walking. Walking towards the spot he’d been at exactly two weeks ago, laying a lifeless angel to rest.

 

His angel.

 

He was crying. He couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He was still panting, desperately trying to catch his breath, and tears were streaming down his face as he slowly walked towards the grave, _his angel’s grave,_ the grave in which _his angel was sleeping, his angel, his his his his dear his precious his angel._

Then he saw it. At the completely abandoned cemetery, in the unbroken silence and harmony, there was a blackbird sitting on the gravestone. One single blackbird. On the gravestone. On Castiel’s gravestone.

 

Dean approached the grave, slowly, carefully. The bird didn’t flinch. It just… stared at him. It seemed to be _waiting for him._

The bird stared, still, calm, fearless.

 

Dean was crying harder than ever before in his entire life.

 

_“Hello, Dean.”_  



End file.
